


Reflections

by Girlblunder



Category: The Huntsman (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 04:59:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9803534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Girlblunder/pseuds/Girlblunder
Summary: An alternate tale of Freya and Ravenna.





	

**Author's Note:**

> There's a whole section of dialogue taken straight from the movie. That's intentional to show the further deviations from the original.
> 
> Rewatching the first movie, holy hell, the scene with Ravenna being taken as a child? Jesus, how old was she? Ugh. Creepy "kings" being creeps. I was squicked.

* * *

_Chaos is spreading through the village, the sound of horses and shouting men penetrating the thin walls of their tent._

_Ravenna clutches her mother tightly, knowing the king and his men are near. Her brother is cowering at the back of the tent, watching in horror as their mother uses the last of her magic to cast a spell on Ravenna._

_“This spell will make your beauty your power and your protection.”_

Ravenna wakes up in a sweat, hands clutching the furs around her. The lavish room around her is dim, the embers of flame in the fireplace long died out.

A few moments of peace reminds her she’s no longer a child, that she’d long taken the power her mother had bestowed upon her and used it just as her mother had wished.

She bares her teeth into a fierce smile, recalling the pleasure she’d derived in taking this last king’s life. They all blur together for her now, the greedy men with greedy mouths that think themselves better because of a ring of metal they wear on their heads.

“Pigs,” she mutters in disgust.

“Ravenna?” comes a soft voice, and then a second later the heavy door to her bedchamber is being pushed open.

There’s only one person allowed to enter her chambers so freely. Ravenna sits up and calmly adjusts her hair. “Freya,” she greets evenly, “what are you doing here?”

Freya gives her a soft look, candlelight flickering oddly over her blue eyes. She looks down and presses her lips together. “I heard a scream,” she murmurs.

Ravenna is glad that Freya’s eyes are averted; it gives her a moment to collect herself. “A silly dream.”

At last Freya looks up, a small smile on her face. “Are you certain?”

For a moment Ravenna is tempted to beckon her closer, to pull her into an embrace where Ravenna knows she could freely cry and wail and speak of horrors all the magic in the world will never rid her memory of. “Of course,” she says instead.

“O-okay.” Freya fidgets with the candle and sets it down on a small side table, one hand moving to adjust the simple cotton shift she’d no doubt been sleeping in.

Ravenna clicks her tongue and rises from her bed, her own satin sleeping gown slinking with the movement. Freya catches sight of a bare leg through one of its high slits and blushes.

“How silly of you,” Ravenna murmurs as she approaches Freya, using her index finger to tilt Freya’s head upward, “to seek me out in such a thin shift. You’ll catch your death of cold. Come along and rest under the furs.”

She can’t allow herself to cry and wail, but she can receive a certain comfort under the pretense of protecting her sister.

Freya’s eyes are wide and innocent, and there’s a smile blossoming on her face. “Alright.”

Ravenna ignores the way her chest twists at the sight, instead dropping a hand and taking Freya’s into her own. She stops briefly to blow out the candle, relieved once the darkness returns to the room.

It’s only when they’re tucked under the furs, Freya’s head resting on Ravenna’s chest, that Freya speaks again.

“Do you dream of it? The day you were taken? I do sometimes.”

“Freya,” Ravenna warns softly.

“I’m sorry,” Freya murmurs, clutching her just a little tighter, “I know you told me not to speak of it. I understand why, but...sometimes, I wonder what it would have been like if I’d been able to grow up with my family.”

“I’m your family now,” Ravenna affirms sternly.

“Yes.”

For a moment Ravenna worries that she’s been too stern; Finn had left her years ago claiming that Freya makes her soft, but it’s nothing Ravenna can help. She doesn’t want to. She’s hardened herself enough, couldn’t she have just one last thing?

“I’m glad that out of all of that, I found you. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

There’s weakness in Freya’s voice, a care that Ravenna knows she couldn’t encourage.

Ravenna pulls Freya closer and hums. She’ll be strong enough for the both of them.

“That’s something you never have to worry about, Freya.”

*

Ravenna had known from the moment she’d met Freya at court, the blush of innocence still fresh on her cheeks, that she was special. Though Ravenna had still been new to her magic, she’d been learning hard under the king’s attention.

Her own innocence had been taken the day after the king had stolen her from her mother.

She was to marry the king soon, and Ravenna wanted nothing more than to gouge his eyes out. Until she fully understood her power, such things would have to wait. And so she’d found herself selecting a personal maid and companion, and the magic in Ravenna’s chest had led her right to Freya.

Though Finn was her brother by blood, it had been Freya that Ravenna felt a kinship with.

When Ravenna had killed the king the night of their wedding, she’d been unable to leave Freya behind.

She’s long since come to understand the reason for their bond, though Freya insists differently.

As she stands near Freya now, she can practically hear the hum of magic in Freya’s blood, still unawakened.

There’s a flush on Freya’s cheeks again these days, though Ravenna wishes the reason for it was anything but the truth.

“Is it love? Truly?” she asks in a flat voice as she stares at the mantlepiece above the fire.

“It is love, truly,” Freya murmurs.

Ravenna doesn’t have to look at her to know she’s smiling.

“Your move,” Freya says.

“Why should I bother?” Ravenna stares down at her hands, wondering why there’s the slightest tremor in them. “You always win.”

“You always let me win.” There’s warm affection in Freya’s voice now, and when Ravenna turns to face her, she’s graced with a large smile.

Ravenna can’t speak around the lump in her throat. It’s a different smile than she’d seen Freya grace _him_ with. She paces back around Freya and past her large golden mirror.

“I suppose you are my weakness.”

Freya laughs, but Ravenna can only smile and keep pacing.

“Very well,” Ravenna continues, “queen to rook five. Checkmate in three.”

“Ugh,” Freya says as she moves the piece for Ravenna, now spotting the series of moves.

Ravenna feels no pleasure in the victory. She much prefers Freya’s delighted smiles and twinkling eyes. She almost aches to see them. “Your day will come. Your possibilities will be endless once the magic awakens in your heart.” Ravenna isn’t sure why she says it. Freya isn’t interested in magic, and the last thing Ravenna wants is for Freya to have to sacrifice in the same way she’s been forced to.

“It won't. We both know it won't. I'm not like you.” Though perhaps Freya doesn’t mean for it to sound like an admonishment or judgement, Ravenna still feels it as such.

“All the women of our blood are gifted, Freya. And in time you will find the source of your power as I found mine.” She smiles and takes a seat, though she grips the wooden arms of her chair too tightly as she shifts.

“We'll see.” Freya looks away, an almost sad look on her face.

Ravenna can’t look at Freya when she has that look in her eye. Ravenna’s gaze wanders downward, and her heart suddenly feels like it’s going to pound out of her chest.

“What?” Freya asks with a frown.

“You're carrying his child,” Ravenna says, feeling the edges of her magic beginning to flare. She soothes it down with a breath and manages to look at Freya.

Freya, whose lips are parted with surprise.

“Oh. You didn't know.” Ravenna swallows against the knowledge, reaching out to fiddle with one of the chess pieces. “Well, he's promised to another.”

“He does not love her.”

“Their engagement is sealed. It cannot be broken. He will deny you.” She leans forward in her chair, the fire taunting her with the vision it’s shared. The potential threads of the future twirl in the air before Ravenna. “And he will deny your daughter.”

“He will not,” Freya whispers, but she can’t look Ravenna in the eye.

“Freya, I'm not being cruel. I simply wish to protect you.” One thread is just slightly brighter than the rest, though Ravenna wishes otherwise.

“You may be surprised how things turn out.” Freya abruptly stands, now favoring Ravenna only with a brief hard stare. “You know much, Ravenna. But you do not know all.”

It’s only when Ravenna is alone that she allows herself to acknowledge the stinging in her eyes. Her mirror looms in the periphery of her vision. “I'm afraid I do.”

*

Ravenna becomes obsessed with peering into the faceless reflection of the mirror. Freya isn’t speaking to her much these days, and it’s a harmless way she can peek in on her from time to time.

Though Ravenna would like to pretend Freya’s just busy with the birth of her precious new daughter, she knows the truth.

It’s been hours since she’s indulged herself, distracted with matters of the kingdom. Her hands are restless as she approaches the mirror.

“Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?”

The mirror’s servant slinks forward, golden robes slowly forming.

“You are, my queen. But not for long. Your sister holds a baby to her breast. A daughter. She will grow to be more beautiful than even you.”

It feels like the breath in Ravenna’s lungs has been stolen away. She shakes as she looks up at her own reflection. Finn had always said Freya would be her downfall. She closes her eyes.

“Show me Freya,” she murmurs with tears in her eyes.

The servant remains unmoving at first, but bows and does as she requests.

Freya looks so happy with the babe in her arms. It feels like a hot knife has pierced Ravenna’s chest.

She’s seen the threads of the future. She knows that all she has to do is _nothing_ and her power will be safe.

When Freya begins speaking to her daughter, Ravenna reaches up to touch the golden-skewed vision of her face.

*

The day of the fire, Ravenna cries. The decision is easy and hard all at once.

“Freya, don’t!” she calls out when she sees Freya rushing toward her, strawberry hair wild and blue eyes wide with panic. Smoke is curling out into the hallway from the room behind them.

But Freya doesn’t listen, instead pushing almost violently into the room and letting out a bloodcurdling scream when she sees the face of the baby’s father, covered in soot.

The sound pulls Ravenna from her daze, and it’s her turn to rush forward. The magic in Freya’s blood is throbbing with life, and frost begins to shoot from her feet.

“Freya,” Ravenna says as she clutches reaches out for Freya’s shoulder, “your child is safe.”

When Freya turns, Ravenna sees that her hair has gone white, and there’s tears pouring down her face.

Ravenna licks her lips and shrugs so that her robe falls backward. She can already see the great beauty the child will be; she looks just like Freya.

“Ravenna,” Freya says in a whisper choked with tears, her hands trembling as they reach for her daughter.

“She is your blood,” Ravenna murmurs, “I will protect her as I do you.” She catches sight of the guards and hardens her features when she catches sight of Freya’s old suitor. “Take him away.”

Freya falls forward so her head is resting on Ravenna’s shoulder, now smiling as she runs her hands carefully over her daughter’s perfect fingers and toes, ignoring the guards and the man that’s lead away.

Ravenna swallows but easily bears the weight. “What’s her name?”

“Branwen.”

“Hello little bird,” Ravenna says with a smile. There’s tears in her eyes, but she ignores them. “You may not be family by blood, but I will love you and protect you as such.”

Freya sucks in a surprised breath, and Ravenna can imagine her shocked features.

*

Branwen grows quickly, crawling before either Freya or Ravenna knows it.

“Goodness, she’s quick,” Freya mutters with a laugh as she chases her daughter around the corner of the chess table.

Ravenna laughs, warm and low.

Freya pauses, a wriggling and giggling daughter now in her grasp. She’s still hunched over. Her eyes narrow at Ravenna as she blows a tuft of white hair from her face. “What are you laughing at? I’m sure this is all your fault.”

Despite the accusatory nature of the words, Freya’s blue eyes seem to twinkle with joy in the firelight.

“My fault? How so?”

“You’re a dreadful influence on her. She’s just as much your daughter as she is mine!”

Ravenna can’t breathe for a moment. The last year has been one of changes, many of which have revolved around her own. There’s no point in keeping her distance from Freya, no point in trying to keep a tight grip on her magic, not with its demise looming ever on the horizon. As soon as Branwen comes of age, her power will fade completely.

But…

“Is that so? Well, I suppose we’ll just have to hope she’ll be a better queen.”

Freya stands, blinking slowly at Ravenna. In her arms, Branwen reaches out toward Ravenna.

“I can’t imagine anyone being a better queen than you,” Freya says, her head ducking down for the barest of moments. She looks up at Ravenna from under her lashes and smiles.

And Ravenna wonders if Freya truly hasn’t retained her powers over cold, because now Ravenna is quite suddenly incapable of moving. She’s never seen _that_ smile directed her way before.

“Na!” Branwen cries out, and at last the spell is broken. Her small chubby arms continue to reach for Ravenna.

“Well, bring her here,” Ravenna says, trying not to sound as breathless as she feels.

Her cheeks feel warm when Freya complies, hands brushing over her arms and shoulders as Branwen is settled into place on her lap.

Branwen giggles her joy, snuggling into Ravenna’s arms and letting out a happy sigh.

“You’re her favorite.” Freya’s voice is all warm affection tinged with exasperation. “But I suppose I can’t blame her; you’re my favorite too.”

Ravenna’s eyes droop nearly shut when Freya’s hand comes up to cradle her face.

Yes, one day, she will lose her magic. But, Ravenna decides as she turns to press a delicate kiss to Freya’s palm, the price is worth what she has gained.

Freya sucks in a sharp breath, and then her thumb is brushing over Ravenna’s cheekbone.

Ravenna doesn’t resist when Freya’s hand tilts her head upward, her eyes finally closing when Freya’s lips are pressed against her own.


End file.
